


Interlude

by FiraTook



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, X-Men Evolution
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26374573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiraTook/pseuds/FiraTook
Summary: I'm in a Fire Emblem roleplay server. This is where I put the antics my muses get up to that don't involve other people in the server.
Kudos: 5





	1. Azure Moon Lin and Crimson Flower Hubert C Support

"Hello Hubert. To what do I owe the visit?" Linhardt opened the door to her study to allow the visitor in.  
Said visitor wasted no time in entering or getting to the point, "I have come to remind you that though we are of different worlds, Emperor Edelgard still deserves the respect owed by her position." Each word came pointed, sliding out of his mouth like a sword from a sheath.  
They were blocked by a shield of indifference, "Perhaps in _your_ world," she said with a shrug, "but neither of you have any authority in this one."  
"Whether we have authority is irrelevant," Hubert crossed his arms as he spoke, "when speaking to Her Majesty, you will do so respectfully. Do you understand?"  
Linhardt dropped her head with a sigh as she leaned against her desk, "I don't have the energy to argue. I will be respectful as long as she is deserving of it."  
A flame was kindled in Hubert's eyes at that, "You may not agree with her actions, but her position commands respect."  
Lin shook her head, green hair swaying as she did so, "As true as that may be, it doesn't matter. I'm not part of your world, therefore I'm not bound by _your_ commands." She looked Hubert in the eye upon delivering the jab.  
He was taken aback by that, but held his ground, "If you will not respect her for her position, then respect her for her actions."  
"Her actions in the group chat are hardly deserving of respect," she rolled her eyes with the advance, "perhaps instead of lecturing _me_ on what behavior is appropriate in the group chat, you should lecture _her_ on what behavior is appropriate for a leader."  
"You are in no position to judge what is or isn't fitting behavior for a given position," Hubert parried as he shifted his weight to the other foot, "given how your behavior is hardly fitting of a noble."  
Linhardt sighed once more, "Be that as it may, I really do not care. I'm tired. I'm in pain. And I have been tolerating the childish behavior of both Edelgard and Dimitri for a month. I'm done. And so are you." She threw down the figurative weapon as she turned her back, pulled out her chair, and sat down.  
Hubert stared at the other for a moment, eyes burning a hole into the back of her skull. However, there was nothing he could do if she would not listen. He turned on his heels and began walking for the door. "Useless," he spat before exiting.


	2. A Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt has suffered periodic nightmares since the end of the war. They've been more frequent as of late. This is one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Re-written with the help of my awesome friend!   
> She can be found   
> On Tumblr: https://olyollyoxenfree.tumblr.com/  
> On Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/olyollyoxenfree/  
> (She does really cute art, y'all should check her out)

“I just need to sleep."

I just need to sleep.

I need to close my eyes, drift off and 

Sleep. 

Sleep came immediately. Like a gust of wind stealing the soul, carrying her off into the world of dreams.

She sat at her desk. Orange orbs dripped from the ceiling like honey onto the green carpet. The orbs pooled together, scorching away the green, leaving behind brown. Miles and miles of burnt brown.

The scenery changed. A building of stone, yet tilted and stretched, thus yielding it unrecognizable. Grunting echoed through the halls. The sound of wood meeting wood. Then steel meeting steel. Linhardt’s bare feet made barely a sound as they met the stone cold floor. Had they made a sound at all, they would have been drowned out by the pounding of armored footsteps. Armored footsteps all in time. All in beat. The beat matched her heart, steady and slow, but ever increasing.

The shadows of the battalion stood straight against the warped wall. They grew taller as the soldiers grew closer. Then they were upon her. Then she was among them. The group ran through the halls. Going nowhere. The roar of a beast, some haunting mix of lion and bear, echoed ‘round them. Half of the soldiers fell. The rest marched forward.

Linhardt turned around to help the fallen, and only then did she see that those marching forward were half rotten; charred flesh falling off the bone. But the dead on the floor were clean. She kneeled beside them, warm hands tending to cold flesh as if to heal them alive. As she moved to close their eyes, she saw them alight, tears streaming down still faces, screaming in silence, "why?"

A hand reached out from behind her, she shrieked as it gripped her shoulder. A familiar voice spat venom, “Traitor,” but she could not place who it belonged to.

The floor disappeared from under her, sending her into an abyss. Eyes peered at her from the black expanse as she lay falling

Falling

Falling.

Suddenly she sat firmly in her seat. She was in her study again. A safe haven from the eyes. Yet, she could not shake the feeling of something peering from the dark. She shivered, vocalising her disgust. Her hair flew about as she whirled her head to find the source of the eye. The window was uncovered. The window was uncovered. Uncovered. The blanket. She stood on her desk, hammer and nail in hand without transition. Blanket, a shield from the piercing light-- the peering light.

She sighed as she slid back down in her chair, but her breath caught in her throat as the feeling of dread returned. She stood. Where was it coming from? Her wide eyes darted from the bookcase, to the door, to the hole in the wall. She shook her head and sat back down again. The back of her skull burned. The feeling traveled down her spine, and she shivered again.

From behind her came a rumbling growl. The same from the hallway. She tried to turn around, but before she had the chance, claws trapped her arms and teeth tore into her throat. She tried to call for help, but the teeth clamped down on her throat like a vice. She fell silent and limp as the unseen beast dragged her into the hole in the wall.

Her vision went black, then suddenly white as if everything had been enveloped by a bolt of lightning. A clap of thunder. The pound of a gavel. She found herself in a courtroom. The beast was no longer upon her, but rather caged next to the judge. The judge's face was obscured, both by the height of their podium, and the thick fog which covered the room.

"How do you plead?" The judge's voice rang through the court, strong and feminine.

Linhardt's own voice was mouse-like, "For what crime?" Deep red seeped in from the cracks in the walls. The thick liquid collected black against Linhardt's ankles.

"Aiding and abetting." The liquid rose to her waist and no further. She lifted her hands, shaking and coated red.

She felt as though she would faint, her cold skin damp with sweat. Her words stuck in her throat as she choked out, "Whose death?"

The judge slowly lifted a clean hand to point. Bodies. Hundreds of them scattered across the field. Mangled figures, entrails pouring out, skulls crushed, concave, or shattered. Linhardt backed away from the sight, clinging to the rail behind her so hard that her knuckles turned from red to white under the liquid.

“How do you plead?” The judge pressed, voice cold and emotionless.

“Not guilty!” Linhardt cried.

The judge scoffed, “Your heart knows the truth.”

She fell to her knees. Red liquid splashed into her mouth. It tasted of iron.

The blood rose higher. Linhardt tried to stand, but the weight of her sins dragged her back into the black liquid. Her breathing grew frantic as she tried to rise above it. This only served to fill her lungs with it, and she coughed. She tried again to stand, only to slip. She gasped as she fell. Her sense of taste seemed to vanish as all that consumed it was bitter iron and salt. She reached a hand toward the Judge as she sank even further, fingers stretched to their limit in a desperate cry for salvation. The last thing she saw before her strength gave out were three merciless eyes staring at her from the fog.

She awoke gasping for air, clawing at her bedsheets.


	3. The Beginnings of A Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For context: Kiran, a summoner, is originally from the world that Tokyo Mirage Sessions takes place in. That being said, he often references modern day things in the group chat. One conversation basically went like this:
> 
> Kiran: You need to see a therapist.  
> Edelgard: What's a therapist?  
> Kiran: That explains a lot.
> 
> So Linhardt, not knowing how else to deal with resurfacing trauma, took a portal to Askr, and from there to Minnesota, to talk to a therapist.

Day 20 of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1186

I went to therapy today. The therapist recommended that I start journaling. "Express your thoughts in writing instead of holding them in." To be entirely honest, I had not even realized I had been holding them in. One does grow used to filtering one's opinions for the sake of those they care about, I suppose.

I am quite apprehensive about this. I am not used to confronting what troubles me; it's far easier to run away. But, alas, I feel as though I cannot run any longer. Though I make strides during the day (ignoring the fear through research, fishing, or sleep), the anxiety claws at me when I lay down for the night. When I finally manage to sleep, it's disturbed. Terrors plague my dreams, and the fear lingers when I am startled awake.

I have been given a list of ways to cope with the terror. Deep breathing, tensing and untensing my body bit by bit. I think the hardest one will be talking to someone in the moment. While I care about many people, I don't believe any of them would truly understand. Even Caspar, the man I have chosen to spend my life with, seemed at a loss for what to do or say. Though I appreciate his support, I worry that talking to him about it all would trouble him too deeply. I have noticed that I tend to lash out when panicked. While it helped keep me alive during the war, the response is less than helpful when dealing with those I care about. Yet another problem I find myself unable to run away from; over analyzing every potentially rude or hurtful thing I may have said during the day during those rare nights that Caspar falls asleep before me.

This is bothersome. Why does repairing the mind take so much effort? Would it not be simpler to remove the memories that cause me distress? Though it most certainly would, doing so runs the risk of altering the person as a whole. So many of my friendships were forged on the battlefield, where they would risk their lives to save me and I them. Who is to say I would even be close to those I care about without the memories? Ugh, why must living come with such inconvenience?


	4. Linhardt Journal Entry 2

Day 20 of the Wyvern Moon, Year 1186

“Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain. For we may or might never all meet here again.” A song that my mother’s side of the family would sing when faced with disaster. It did not begin as a song to celebrate your life before it may end, but songs are not stagnant creations. I find myself humming it often as of late. 

We have gathered in Renais. Some new evil, called Fomortiis, is threatening not only mine and Caspar’s world, but the multiverse as a whole. Riev, a general in service to the creature, has begun sending monsters into several worlds. Alfonse of Bryn’s world has gone missing as well. 

It’s not fair. A year after I survive a war that topples empires and alliances, some other great disaster strikes. While the whole debacle is quite the inconvenience, I cannot simply sit back and let my home be destroyed, can I? 

I… I am not the most social person. Yet… What if we are to die? What if these last few days  _ are  _ our last? I want those that I know to know that I cared for them. 

Perhaps I will gather them together.


	5. Apprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt Wagner has a crush on Satomi Arai. He has to tell her sooner or later, but he can't just work up the courage.

“Satomi, I like you.”

Kurt sighed in frustration, running his hands through his black hair. That delivery was so weak. Should he use “like” or “love”? They hadn’t exactly known each other for very long, but the blue boy couldn’t help how enamored he had become. “One more time,” he sighed, looking into the mirror. “Satomi, I know that we just met, but I… I like you, a lot.” His voice was strained with his frayed nerves.

He sighed. _Come on!_ He thought, _flirting is second nature! I can manage a simple confession._ He hung his head and moved to sit on his bed. “What if she turns me down?” He wondered aloud, words drawn out in dejection. She was so _cool._ Not only had she saved her own world, but she had saved others as well. She had been through hell, and yet her smile burned brightly with a joy that could only come from God. Yet she wasn’t superhuman. She wasn’t a mutant. Sure, she knew magic, but so did several people. She was a normal teenager, like him but even more so.

With that thought, he looked at his three fingered hands. He rolled his eyes and flopped onto his bed.  _ Satomi doesn’t mind that,  _ he reminded himself as he stared at the ceiling. It took a moment for the thought to really register, but when it did his tense muscles relaxed.  _ She really doesn’t mind…  _ A tender smile crept onto his face. Such a rare thing were those people. “I’m not losing this chance.” He said. The small smile spread to a grin as he ported back in front of the mirror.

“Satomi,” he began, chest puffing up with confidence, “I am so glad to have a friend that I can be myself around. But, I would like to be more than friends. Do you wanna go out with me?” 

Happiness bubbled up inside him when he finished. “Yes,” he exclaimed as he fist pumped, “I did it! I can do this!” He crossed the room to his calendar, a spring in his step. Four days until New Year’s. He would tell her then.


	6. Ambassador

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt has been contemplating which college to attend after he graduates in the summer. Professor Xavier has a talk with him about it.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Kurt asked hesitantly as the large door creaked and shut behind him with a click. He swallowed, and his gaze journeyed the carpet between him and Professor Xavier.

"Come in, Kurt. There's no need to be nervous." The Professor greeted the young man with an optimistic tone, yet Kurt hesitated. He glanced between the door behind him and the looming silhouette of his mentor in front. _"No backing out now,"_ he thought. He took a deep breath before moving to stand beside the Professor.

The two sat in silence for some time, watching the younger residents of the mansion chase each other around the courtyard, soaking up the early summer sun. While The Professor enjoyed this brief moment of peace, Kurt clutched his pockets in agony as the seconds ticked by ever too slowly.

A girl with long red hair noticed the two of them watching, and waved. Her white haired friend promptly gestured that they should go. They reminded him of Satomi and Kadoc. He cared so much for them, especially Satomi… He couldn't lose them. He opened his mouth to speak, but Professor Xavier spoke first.

"I've heard that you are thinking about attending college."

Kurt stared at Xavier, mouth agape.

" _That's_ what this meeting is about?!" The blue mutant asked, hands leaving his pockets as he turned to get a clearer view of his mentor's expression.

Xavier chuckled at Kurt's reaction, "Of course. I'm speaking with everyone about their plans for the future."

Kurt clasped his hand around his forehead, stepping backwards in a dramatic gesture of relief, "Oh man. Thank goodness. I thought I was a goner."

Charles couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Even as he matured, Kurt was ever the dramatic. "No, Kurt, you're not in trouble. That portal you've been venturing through has not caused us any problems yet. Though I expect your friends to close it should you decide to attend an out of state university."

Kurt sighed and gave a double thumbs up as he stood up straighter, "You got it, Professor. Thank you."

The Professor hummed with a smile at Kurt's promise, though it was somewhat hidden behind his entwined fingers. He parted his hands to move his wheelchair to face the young man.

"So, have you come to a decision?"

Kurt shook his head, "Not yet. There are so many to choose from, and," his tail flicked with uncertainty, "I don't know what their policies are on… people like us."

Xavier nodded, "That's understandable, which is why I took the liberty of contacting different colleges in the area that I have, hm, connections to." The professor's smile became somewhat mischievous, "I have already personally recommended that they accept you."

The young man's yellow eyes widened, then closed as a fanged smile spread across his face, "Really? What did they say?" His tail curled upwards as he leaned forward.

The Professor laughed, amused by Kurt's enthusiasm, "Any one of them would be happy to have you. Especially North Abrium University."

Kurt's eyes widened once again, enthusiasm replaced with shock, "North- But that's-" His breathing quickened. He stared at the floor as he processed the information, only to snap his gaze towards Xavier, "That's the best college for performing arts in the area! How?-"

Charles waved a hand as if to calm the blue boy's shock, "They were impressed with your performance in Peter Pan. Not only that, they were impressed by the unique opportunity you would provide them with."

The Professor continued whenever he noticed Kurt's tilted head and flicking tail, "The univeristy hopes to start a Mutant Integration Program. The goal of the program is to stifle hostility between mutants and non-mutants through open co-education." 

"I don't understand. We've been living and working beside each other since the beginning."

Xavier nodded, "I know. But most people don't see it that way. Even if they did, we have been doing so in secret. This program, it would allow you to use your powers as necessary. To be yourself. Entirely yourself." With the last statement, Charles motioned to the image inducer on Kurt's wrist. 

The boy pulled his arm back protectively, brow furrowed in a mixture of uncertainty and fear. "You can't be serious, Professor! I can't- You're throwing me to the wolves here!" 

The other closed his eyes as he shook his head, "I know it will be difficult for you, which is why the choice is up to you." The wheelchair whirred as Charles moved about the room, almost pacing in a way, "You're charismatic, Kurt. People are comfortable around you-"

"Only because they can't see what I really look like!" The boy's arm swept across his chest out to his side as he spoke.

"That isn't entirely true." Xavier's voice grew stern for a moment. The change in tone brought the young man back to the present. He held onto his arm, head lowered in submission.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I… I forget sometimes. I forget that people here aren't like where I grew up."

The Professor nodded, fingers laced together once again, "I know, Kurt, and it's alright. Please, take your time in deciding. What I want is for you to be happy in the end."

Kurt nodded, smiling in relief, "Thanks, Professor. I'll think it over.”


End file.
